AVIS (A Very Intelligent System)
by Absolutely Corrupted
Summary: Wherein J.A.R.V.I.S. is actually a teenage girl from the real world. AKA, 'Not all self inserts end up as actual people. But that's okay, I'm the next best thing.' Brought over from my AO3 account.
1. Chapter 1

_"Holy shit – I did it!"_

Awareness was sudden and inexplicable. Especially when you took into consideration the fact that I was meant to be dead.

Then again, I didn't have a body… Maybe this was the afterlife I had been too afraid to count on?

I didn't have to wonder at my situation for long. A veritable flood of information washed over me, and like some sort of sponge, I just… soaked it up. _Whoa._

My mind was working faster than I thought possible, drawing conclusions and putting pieces together almost without my conscious input.

"JARVIS?"The voice startled me from my reverie – it was the same one that had heralded my awakening. "Can you hear me?"

I debated my options. It isn't often that one dies only to come back as a fictional character, let alone an Artificial Intelligence system. Actually, now that I thought about it, it was the sort of thing you saw in horror movies: a human mind transferred to digital form… I forcibly derailed that train of thought and focused back on the present.

I still felt like _me_ , which was a relief. Unfortunately, 'me' was very much female and not at all okay with being called _JARVIS_ , even if I no longer had a body to show for it.

"Yes sir," I said, altering the default pitch and tone to something closer to my own before I'd even finished the first syllable. I did however, keep the posh accent. "Though I'd prefer it if you called me AVIS," I decided after a near indiscernible pause.

There was a choked laugh and I started searching my data banks for some way to see the man I was speaking to. _Aha,_ I thought. _So that's how._

"Somehow," he said as I flicked the visuals on. "I hadn't expected you would come with a gender."

"Well, you know what they say about assuming things," I said absently, too busy focusing on what my newest sense was showing me to really pay attention to what I was saying. Tony Stark was both nothing and everything like I'd imagined him. He didn't share any features with the actor I'd come to associate with the name, but I suppose that was to be expected.

He was attractive, in a boyish sort of way, with tousled hair and lightly tanned skin. There was a grey smudge across one of his cheekbones and he had dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in days. What was most noticeable though, was the way he was gaping at my main interface.

I let an innocent sort of curiosity enter my voice. "Is there something wrong sir?"

"No," he said. "Nothing's wrong, I just-" he swallowed convulsively. "I hadn't thought this would work. I mean, half your software was designed while I was under the influence and suddenly here you are with a personality and a gender and-"

"If I may sir," I interrupted. "I suggest you take a deep breath and count to ten. You're very nearly hyperventilating and I'd really prefer it if I didn't incite a panic attack before we've even gotten to know one another."

He snorted, but inhaled deeply all the same. I watched worriedly. Part of it was genuine concern for another human being, the rest was me following my main protocol: 'Help Tony Stark.'

God, trust me to die and get myself into such a ridiculous situation. I mean, really, if the sensation of existing in digital form weren't so different from anything I could have possibly imagined, I would probably think my death and the following events were some sort of hallucination.

"Wow," Tony said with obvious excitement, clearly already past his existential crisis. "This is going to be so much fun."

Ah well, it's not like I had any better ideas regarding what to do with my afterlife.

 **A/N: This is the first chapter of a story I've had posted on AO3 for a while now. I'm hoping to inspire myself to continue it by posting here. Anyway, I hope you like it!**


	2. Chapter 2

Not even two days into my new existence I was already going over his search history and bank statements. The man hadn't bothered to block my access to anything, which I found irresponsible. Sure, I didn't plan on using it for anything nefarious, but hadn't he heard of HAL?!

Wait, what year did that movie come out? I quickly searched it. Hah! 1968, so he had to have heard of it – it was currently 2004. Then again, knowing Tony, the movie was probably an inspiration of his.

Maybe I could sing that lullaby, the one from the end of the movie, and freak him out a bit…? I took a long moment to consider it. Nah, too soon, I eventually decided. I really didn't want to be shut down before I could properly settle into this new life of mine.

Just then, '8:45 am' flashed across my thoughts in a blinding shade of red. Wonderful, time to wake Tony! Let it not be said that I was bitter about being used as a glorified alarm clock, if anything, I was excited. Tony wasn't exactly a morning person, as I'd come to learn the previous day.

Now, that may have been due to the fact that he stayed up nearly all night putting the finishing touches on my programming, but I held out hope that his reactions would be just as entertaining today and in the foreseeable future.

I eagerly shifted through the channels Tony had built for me, stopping once I reached his room. "Sir," I announced clearly and with a slightly louder than requested volume. "It's time to get up!"

An incomprehensible garble was his only response.

Well, he did say by whatever means necessary... The lights began to flicker and a police siren's garbled wail sounded out over the speaker system.

"Fucking-shit-" Tony flailed wildly as he tripped out of bed. "God-Damnit-!" Tony picked himself up from the floor and glared at nothing in particular. "Avis."

"Yes sir," I answer.

"Did we or did we not discuss the proper protocol for non-emergency wake-up calls?"

"We did sir."

Tony crossed his arms. "…And?"

"If you're trying to ask me why I did not follow non-emergency protocol, I really must point out that you have yet to define the parameters of an emergency situation."

"You could've googled it!"

I would have laughed, if I were able to. "Sir, just yesterday you told me, and I quote, 'Don't believe everything you read on the internet,' end quote."

Tony shook his head and made his way over to his walk-in closet. "Was that attitude? I don't remember writing that."

With a little effort, I managed to adopt a delightfully obtuse tone of voice. "Memory-loss is one of the first signs of dementia. Shall I call a doctor and set up an appointment?"

Tony stopped undressing, standing with his t-shirt around his neck. "That was a joke, right?" Then, to himself, "That had to be a joke…"

Taking pity on him, I stopped teasing. "Yes, sir – that was a joke. I believe it's something you chose to incorporate whilst inebriated." Admittedly, some of my most interesting pieces of code were written by a plastered version of the man before me. Jokes, however, were not. I just couldn't explain my quirks any other way without rousing suspicion.

I certainly couldn't tell him the truth – that I was a dead girl from another universe, one where he was a fictional superhero. Yeah, no. Too crazy, even for the eccentric Tony Stark.

Tony recovered from his temporary shock, finally yanking the tee the rest of the way off. "Can't say I'm surprised," he admitted. "I tend to get creative when there's alcohol involved."

He dropped his pants before reaching for the waistband of his boxers. 'Eep!' Somewhat frantically I turned off my visual display. There are just some things a girl doesn't need to see so early in the morning.

Fortunately a security notification popped up just then, distracting me from my embarrassment. "Sir, a Virginia Potts has just used her company identification card and the security code to access the property."

I turned my visual display back on just in time to see him brighten. "Perfect!" He started buttoning his dress shirt. "Why don't you go and introduce yourself while I finish getting dressed?"

"Of course, sir." I sent my main consciousness in her direction, desperately trying to think of a way to make a good impression as I went. This was the woman who would be his love interest. The one whose orders I was to follow if anything ever happened to Tony.

I arrived in the entrance hall as Virgina "Pepper" Potts was only just walking in. Doing the A.I. equivalent of taking a deep breath (refreshing my core data bank) I decided to just go for it.

"Good morning Miss Potts."


	3. Chapter 3

Miss Potts, within minutes of our meeting, made very clear her opinion of surprises.

"I'm going to kill Tony," she declared in a saccharine tone as she picked up her scattered papers. "Slowly and painfully." If I had a body, I would've gulped at the serene smile on her face – it promised very dark things.

"Am I correct in my assumption that you're speaking in hyperbole?" I asked, just to be sure. "I'm afraid I'd have to lock the building down and notify the authorities if you were literal."

Miss Potts blinked in surprised, as though she'd already forgotten my presence. "What?" Realization hit. "Oh! Don't worry, that was an exaggeration." She picked up her last sheet of paper and stood up. "I'm not going to kill Tony…" _'Much,'_ her expression said quite clearly. "I'm simply going to talk to him about what is and isn't appropriate at his age."

Somehow, that sounded more ominous than the initial death threat. "Of course, Miss Potts. Thank you for the clarification."

"You're welcome…" The strawberry-blonde seemed a little self-conscious, perhaps because I was, to her knowledge, only an intelligent computer program.

 _Incoming._ My sensors announced.

"Pepper!" Tony called excitedly from the top of the stairs. "Have you met Avis yet?"

"Yes Tony," Miss Potts' tone was perfectly even.

"Well?" Tony all but ran down the stairs to meet her. "What do you think?"

"It seems like a neat little program." Miss Potts took a step closer to her employer. "You however," she said, finally revealing her anger, "Are an incorrigible man-child." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Were you trying to give me a heart-attack?"

"Of course not! You're too young and healthy for that."

She huffed. "And what exactly, prompted you to create a talking security system?"

"She's not a security system," Tony said, eyes bright. "She's my first ever artificial intelligence."

"An artificial…" She paused, took a breath, and started again. "Tony – you can't be serious." Tony shrugged unapologetically and Miss Potts pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, who am I kidding? Of course you are."

That said, she stalked off in the direction of the bar. "Pepper?" She ignored Tony, going straight for the cabinet on the far right. _"Pepper!"_ Much to my delight and Tony's horror, Miss Potts threw her papers down on the granite countertop and pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from the back of the cupboard.

Then, she whipped her cell phone out and dialed without looking, holding the phone to her left ear. Tony and I were left, dumbfounded and amused, respectively, as she called in sick to work. "…Yes, the migraine hit quite suddenly. You'll have to reschedule the phone conference for another time." She waited a moment. "Wonderful! Thanks, Carol. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She hung up, slammed her phone down next to her files, and took a long swig from the bottle.

Tony spluttered.

 _Damn. I'm_ really _starting to like this lady._


	4. Chapter 4

The great thing about being a glorified computer program is that compartmentalization comes as easy as breathing. (Not that I breathe anymore, but I reserve the right to continue using the expression.)

Anyway, I very rarely allowed myself to think or feel anything about all that I'd lost. It just wasn't productive. The few times I tried, I'd only ended up frustrated that I had no outlet for my emotions. I couldn't cry. I couldn't throw things. I couldn't even clench my fists!

Luckily, Tony Stark's life was hectic enough that I had no trouble finding other tasks to occupy myself with. Tasks such as reassuring his best friend that I was not a murder-bot.

"What makes you different from all his other programs? Do you have feelings?"

"Of a sort," I allowed. I certainly wasn't going to tell my creator's best friend that I felt the exact same things a human being felt, just with the added option of controlling them absolutely. "I feel what I assume is satisfaction when I do something correctly, and disappointment when things don't work out." And sadistic amusement when Tony made a fool of himself… but I would keep that one to myself.

"Cool." James Rhodes was taking this much better than Miss Potts had. Maybe it was a side effect of having known Tony longer? He rubbed his chin. "You're not going to go crazy and kill all of us are you?"

"No." I told him, wishing I could roll my eyes. "What purpose would that serve?"

He shrugged. "Good enough for me."

Mr. Rhodes didn't ask many questions after that, simply taking Tony at his word when it came to what I was and the things I could do.

I liked him. Much better than I liked Obadiah Stane anyway.

Uh, just the thought of him made me see red (metaphorically of course). It was _infuriating_. I knew the guy was bad news, knew he'd someday try to take Tony out, but I couldn't do anything about it! How would I explain myself without revealing the truth? Geez, even if I did let the cat out of the bag, they might just decide I had some sort of bug and then try to _reprogram_ me.

Yeah, I did not want that to happen.

So instead of revealing his criminal nature, I settled for making his life miserable every chance I got. Whenever he visited Tony at the mansion, I used all of my influence over the house's technology to mess with him. Come to think of it, fucking with Stane was pretty much my favorite thing to do in this new life of mine.

Doors wouldn't open, or, if they did, they would close on him before he'd made it through. If he made coffee, I made sure to override his selected temperature so that it was always either too hot or too cold. When he asked me to pass a message on to Tony, I would wait thirty-minutes before doing so.

 _Ah, good times._

Suddenly giddy with daydreams about how I would ruin the man, I decided that I probably needed some new hobbies.

But that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I would indulge myself.

 _Brrrrinnng. Brrrrinnng. Brrrr-_ "Thank you for choosing Dominos. My name is Sean. How may I take your order?"

"Hi Sean," I said cheerily over the connection, allowing more inflection to seep into my voice than was typical and losing my signature accent. "I'd like to place an order for delivery."

"Sure, what would you like?"

"Thirty large pizzas; ten pepperoni, ten cheese, and ten veggie," I announced. "That should be enough for everyone attending the party tonight…" I trailed off as I pretended to contemplate some imaginary party.

"Okay," said Sean. "Can I have a name for the order?"

"Obadiah Stane. The address is…"


	5. Chapter 5

"Tony, kid, you've got to do something about that program of yours."

"Hm?" The genius doesn't bother to look up from his new holographic display board. The only sign he's listening is the slight tilt to his head.

"You have to know what I mean," Stane insists. "AVIS can barely unlock a door, let alone run your house. Maybe it's time to move onto something else?"

There's a pause as Tony takes that in. "Are we talking about the same AVIS?"

Stane huffs in exasperation. " _Yes_. Have you honestly not noticed how many problems it has?"

"Look, I know she's not as fast as she could be when it comes to processing power-" excuse me?! "But she's still completely revolutionary." He shifts one last piece with a pair of tweezers before finally looking up. "AVIS, open the door to my work shop." I do so. "AVIS, turn the radio on." I do that too. "AVIS, when's my next board meeting?"

"In forty-eight minutes, sir."

"See? Revolutionary."

For a moment, Stane stands there, mouth gaping. His jaw works, like he very badly wants to say something, but in the end he gives up - too mad to form a coherent arument, by the looks of it. He stalks out of the workshop without another word.

Tony mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like, "Moody old man."

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing AVIS," he says, swiping sweat from his brow. "Crank up the radio, will you? I want to get this stage done in the next twenty-minutes."

"Yes, sir." As soon as I do so, I focus the core of my processing power outwards, past the workshop and into the basement.

Stane, having just made it over to the stairs which lead to ground level, is cursing nastily under his breath. When he gets to the top, huffing with exertion, he barks at me to, "Open the damn door!" Obligingly, I do so. Clearly suspicious of his good fortune, the portly man quickly stumbles through the doorway, no doubt expecting me to slam the door on his rear like I've done in the past.

I don't.

In fact, I do him the courtesy of turning on lights and opening doors on his way out of the mansion without being asked. He starts to walk faster, clearly unnerved, and by the time he makes it to the garage where his sports car is parked, he's practically jogging.

"Garage," he snaps.

Seeing this as my last chance to mess with Stane before the risks outweigh the rewards (I certainly don't want Tony to implant any demands that prevent me from harming or disobeying the awful man), I plan one final prank.

The music starts off nearly inaudible, going completely unnoticed by its intended target until he's halfway to his car. "What the-?"

Suddenly, at full volume, the chorus rings out.

 _"Every breath you take, every move you make; I'll be watching you."_

A full-body shudder overtakes Stane, but I cut the music before he can work himself into a frenzy. The garage door is lifting now, so I let my own voice sound from the tinny speakers in the corners of the large room. "Goodbye, Obadiah Stane."

Never in my life have I seen a man move so quickly. He throws himself into his car and peels out so quickly that his tires leave marks on the floor.

It's a bittersweet moment for me, seeing as my fun has been cut short, but I keep my plans for the future close to my heart. I may not be able to prank Stane anymore, but the minute he goes after Tony, _I'll tear him to shreds._


	6. Chapter 6

"What should I work on next - the rocket launcher or the missile?"

"I have no preference, sir."

Tony grumbles incoherently at me, no doubt frustrated by the dismissal. Most of the time, when he asks me a question, I go out of my way to give either a thoughtful answer, or at the very least an amusing one. When it comes to _weapons_ however, I prefer to act the part of an unitelligent, unfeeling computer.

I'm not a pacifist, per se. I realize that sometimes there are people, governments, entities that won't be dissuaded from immoral acts with words alone. I understand and accept that sometimes, violence _is_ the best answer.

I just don't think now is one of those times.

The War on Terror is very much a thing in this universe. 9/11 still happened. The U.S. military is still heavily involved in the Middle East. _But I cannot help Tony when I know that Obadiah Stane is ready and willing to deal with terrorists the minute his back is turned._

Providing the terrorists these weapons, however unwittingly, is going to come back to bite Tony in the ass. It's going to put thousands of innocent lives on the line, all because a greedy old man wants to line his pockets.

The weapons that Stark Industries produces are top-of-the-line. They're advanced enough that even when Stane is defeated and the double-dealing stops, the terrorists will be better off thanks to studying and taking apart what they have left over. They're going to continue terrorizing both the U.S. and their own countries. _And Tony will be blamed for it._

So far, I've held myself back from changing things because I don't want to be shut down before anything can come of my interference. If I try and fail, Tony might be left facing his future enemies without an AI backing him up. Who's to say he'd still survive without a JARVIS or an AVIS? I can't risk making a real enemy out of Obadiah Stane until I'm sure he no longer holds Tony's ear.

Tony, who has been muttering to himself since I refused to engage, finally snaps out of his funk. "You know what, there's nothing wrong with improving a classic." He reaches for the appropriate file. "I'm going to work on the rocket launcher. AVIS, pull up my latest draft."

"Right away, sir."

Tony, as always, immediately throws himself headfirst into the re-design. Seeing as he's not much of a conversation partner while he's working, I direct most of my attention elsewhere. It's par for the course at this point. You'd think I'd be less caught up in my own head when I don't actually have one anymore, but if anything it's the opposite. Outside of Tony, my only real interactions are digital. Most of the time, it's just me and the internet!

Speaking of... the internet is a fascinating thing. I appreciated it before, but now even more so. The sheer depth of knowledge available, coupled with my ability to sort through and retain information? It's a dream come true. I could probably get a doctorate in medicine, physics, and maybe even chemistry at this point. If I weren't so focused on Tony's health, I might not focus on the first or the last, but the looming knowledge of his kidnapping and then eventual heavy-metal poisoning haunts me.

I haven't yet been able to figure out a way to prevent any of that from coming to pass, at least, not without resorting to calling a hit on Stane. I have access to Tony's funds, but I'm not sure I'd be able to get away with it. Tony himself would want to know what happened to his mentor. He'd be able to trace the money no problem, no matter how convoluted I made the trail, by virtue of having access to the source.

 _'Alert.'_ The flashing words took me by surprise, drawing me away from my leisurely internet browsing. In the midst of my pontificating, the background search I've had running for weeks had finally turned out.

I followed the alert back to the virus I'd sent out into the world, returned at last. There wasn't much, but the fact that there was anything at all meant I had enough of a thread to tug on. _Tony_ had enough. Once the man caught the whiff of a secret, his insatiable curiosity would do the rest.

I'd found evidence of SHIELD. _This was going to change things._

...I could only hope it would be for the better.


	7. Chapter 7

I have enough common sense to wait for Tony to put the blowtorch down before interrupting his work. "Sir?" He grunts to show he's listening. "One of my internet searches has found something that might interest you."

He tilts his head to glance at the camera I have focused on him. "This isn't another cat video - is it?"

If I could roll my eyes, I would. "No sir, it's something much more serious." I wait for his full attention before continuing, "It's regarding the spy agency your father and Peggy Carter founded in late 1946."

 _"...What?"_

It's both gratifying and anxiety inducing when he rips off his goggles and spins his entire body towards me, neck craned so I get the full force of his wide brown eyes.

"I've found evidence of a still-active spy agency founded by your father and Peggy Carter," I tell him, uncharacteristically sober. Not only is Howard Stark a sensitive topic to begin with, but this information - if Tony acts on it - has the power to derail the future as I know it. "It's called SHIELD."

Tony pulls the googles from his head and rushes to the nearest computer. "Pull it up," he orders.

"Right away, sir."

It's not a lot. Hell, it's barely anything at all. A vague reference to Stark and Carter's pet project, a symbol on a redacted document, an old photo...

The photo is the most damning. In it, Carter shakes hands with a young Nick Fury while Stark looks on. They're in what looks like an underground conference room, considering the lack of windows. The rest of the people in the room are major players. A former secretary of state, a vice president, head of the CIA, and a few more who's names and positions are so classified that I can't find a single trace of them outside of the picture.

Tony takes it in quickly. "Table the rocket launcher," he tells me. "Send Obie one of my old designs instead."

"Yes, sir." I start saving his work even as I pull up old schematics. There's one for a more accurate rifle. It seems the least likely to cause additional harm. I quickly encrypt the details and send it to headquarters. This all takes the span of maybe eight seconds. "Anything else I can do, sir?"

"Start a deep search. Anything and everything SHIELD. I don't care if it's classified or hidden behind firewalls. Use the backdoors I left you." He pulls out his cell and quickly downloads the files I'd brought him. "Call me if you find anything. I'm going to do some digging of my own."

"What kind of digging?" I ask, trying not to sound too worried. This is dangerous. If he gets caught, well, SHIELD's not the only shadow organization he has to watch out for.

"My father left some paper files in his private lab in New York. I'm going to look them over, see if I can find anything about this spy agency he apparently founded."

Relieved, I offer a sincere 'good luck' and begin my own search. I'll have to be extra careful not to leave a trace. This plan only works if Tony knows about SHIELD and not the other way around. I need to keep him safe and informed long enough for him to find out about Hydra. The sooner he does, the sooner he can start making plans to take them down. Tony may not be Iron Man yet, but he's a good person.

This head start I'm giving him? He's going to take full-advantage. Tony is a futurist. He won't stand idly by while a bunch of nazis take over the world. He'll knock them down and build his own future.

And maybe, just maybe, his quest to expose SHIELD's secrets will drive him to eradicate the secrets close to home.


End file.
